


Fake Outs and Make Outs

by taylorswift



Category: Actor RPF, Marvel Cinematic Universe RPF, RPF - Fandom
Genre: F/M, In which Joss is ready to kill his actors, Originally Posted on Tumblr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-19
Updated: 2015-01-19
Packaged: 2018-03-24 16:13:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3775108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taylorswift/pseuds/taylorswift
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If looks could kill, Joss Whedon would have been on the hunt for a new Natasha and Clint, preferably less annoying and could film a damn scene right.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fake Outs and Make Outs

**Author's Note:**

> Another Claire-quest from Tumblr.

If it wasn’t obvious before now, Jeremy Renner is really,  _really_  desperate to kiss me.

Shooting the fight scene between our two characters for Avengers was something I had been awaiting for quite some time. What, between the extensive amounts of training and choreography for the scene and the constant references Jeremy and my other annoyances of cast mates always make to it, this scene has been looming over my head ever since Day One. Jeremy’s been rather persistent in teasing me endlessly about it, joking that it’s such a sexual scene and that we’re going to end up earning the movie an R rating. The man might be a great actor, but in reality, he’s an eight year old boy.

Denying any and all sexual attraction to him is impossible though, because it’s clearly there. Each and every time that his hands brush against my body, whether he does so accidentally as a part of the choreography of our fight scene or on purpose, because he’s one hell of a tease, electric shivers make their way up my spine in a delightfully tantalizing way. Getting attached to a coworker is usually not too hard to avoid, but with Jeremy, it’s like every moment is a new opportunity to skip over a few steps in the natural progression of a relationship presenting itself. He likes to flirt, hard. He likes to tease me, he likes to find excuses to touch me, and as pissed as it should make me, I can’t really fight it. The things he does to me and he doesn’t even make note of it will be the death of me.

This scene started off as something legitimate. An intense fight scene between Clint and Natasha meant a great deal of work behind it, but working with Jeremy was never a complication. He was a diligent worker in practice; we’d pour sweat until we got it right. Of course, he’d always deliver the ever-so-typical wink or joke in true Renner fashion, but he was all business. Now that we’re doing it for real, it’s as though someone switched that off and what we’re doing now is nothing more than a mere warm-up. You would have expected it to be someone else’s day to shoot and the two of us happened to amble on set in full costume.

Joss currently has a headache, clutching to the sides sheet like a lifeline. Jeremy and I are cutting up, which is no surprise. Usually, I’m the more professional of us two, but when you put us together after we’ve had a little kick and it’s nearly two in the morning, we’re a natural disaster on the near horizon. “Okay, can we run this from the top?  _Right_  this time around?” We’ve ruined just about every take humanly possible, and there have been quite a bit since we started, whether it’s Jeremy breaking out into song or me having a pretend wardrobe malfunction. The most popular choice of interruption has been the fake-make out. Jeremy and I are already in incredibly close proximity to one another, and he always goes in for the lips whenever he gets in the right position. Needless to say, Joss isn’t too happy with us. To us, it’s just a game of how sexual we can make an already sexual scene.

Jeremy and I nod like the good little actor-soldiers we are, getting ourselves into position. “Ready to tango, Johansson?” Jeremy asks me as they set up the cameras to start rolling. I stick my tongue out at him, fiddling with the bow that my character has pried off of his.

“I see no rose in your mouth,” I comment.

“Like Joss would let me bring props to further my dedication to the cause.”

“ACTION!” In a split second, I go from Scarlett to Natasha and spin around as I face Jeremy, bow held over my head. Jeremy twirls the dagger around tauntingly as the possessed Clint, and I can see him wink at me. I didn’t realize we were going to start this number so soon. He rises up from his position, and I drop the bow on my way straightening up as well. Joss already knows where this is going, I can tell.

Like we’ve been put in slow mo, Jeremy and I run at each other before embracing, pretending to kiss each other, laughing the entire time. Joss groans loudly, hitting the side of his chair out of frustration. Jeremy’s hands brush over my hips, lingering there for a second before drawing them back to his own sides and I find myself incredibly frustrated. It’s like he’s doing this to me on purpose, like he knows it’s driving me insane.

“You two are supposed to be professionals,” Joss scolds us.

“We are being professional!” Jeremy protests, feigning innocence. I know that if I open my mouth, the only thing that will come out is hysterical laughter, so I just nod along as his backup. Joss rolls his eyes.

“Yes, professional morons perhaps.”

“I think our revisions to the scene are  _excellent_  if I do say so myself—“

“Of course you would, Renner. Now from the top.”

 Again and again, Jeremy and I start from different places in the fight scene, finding new and creative ways to screw it up. We do the dramatic, slow-mo run at each other again for kicks, Jeremy dips me down like we really were doing the tango, I jump on him and lock my legs around his waist, and at one point, the two of us go into unzip our tactical suits. Joss looks as though he could wring our necks at this point as he calls cut for the umpteenth time.

Jeremy raises his hand, innocent look plastered on his face, and Joss pinches the bridge of his nose as a long sigh escapes him. “What, Renner?”

“Look, I’m just saying, I think a make-out session would go perfectly with this scene—“

“For the millionth time, you and Scarlett are not kissing on camera. Go…do that when you’re not on my set.”

Jeremy wiggles his eyebrows teasingly. “Have no fear, Jossie-kins, we do.” I glare at him, hitting him as hard as I can in the shoulder. He winces slightly. “God, woman, you’re going to kill me,” he mutters under his breath.

“Good, maybe then you’ll stop asking me if you can make out with her on camera.”

“Joss, you’d be the biggest liar if you told me you wouldn’t want to make out with her. It’s just the heat of the moment,” Jeremy explains, accompanying his pitiful point with hand gestures. I roll my eyes; unfortunately, this is all typical behavior. “It’s not me, it’s the tension. I can’t help it if I just  _kiss_  her.”

“If you like being employed, then you’ll help it,” Joss threatens. Jeremy’s face falls for a brief moment, before raising his hand again. I groan, shaking my head as I catch the sight of murder glinting in our director’s eyes. Hawkeye is about to be dead. “ _What?_ ”

“Say that when she goes in to bite me—which, might I add, is a bit kinky for my tastes—that I accidentally trip and my mouth ends up where my arm is supposed to be, would that be considered a kiss?”

“Renner,” Joss growls.

“Jeremy holds up his hands in innocence. “What? I’m just asking a question.”

“You ask too many damn questions.”  

“Well, if my mouth was being occupied, then perhaps we would not have this problem—“

“—RENNER—“

“ _Aaaaand_  five, six, seven, eight!” Jeremy yells, swinging an over-accentuated punch over my head as a part of the fight choreography, his method of drawing all attention away from his ramblings that have earned him the imminent death he’s now facing. He never looks at Joss, just stands in position and does a few practice swings. “Come on, Joss, I’m ready, why aren’t you?” If looks could kill, Jeremy Renner would have ceased to exist a few moments ago.

Joss settles himself into his chair, elbow propped up on the arm rest and rubbing the side of his face with his index finger and thumb. “Okay, let’s try this again from the standstill,” he says, voice strained. “And for the love of god, don’t you try and mess this up. I’d love nothing more than to go home and get three hours of sleep before having to return and deal with Evans and Hemsworth.”

Jeremy rubs his fingers together. “Hey Joss, you hear that? That’s the sound of the tiniest violin playing.” I snort, regretting it the moment that the noise escapes me once I catch sight of Joss’s death glare coming in my way.

“Get in position, you two children.”

Jeremy twists his arm upwards, my hands wrapping around his forearm as we wait for our cue. I stand there, breathing heavier than normal, and my eyes scour over him for a moment. Sometimes, I wish that this scene wasn’t as sexy as we make fun of it for actually being. It would be a hell of a lot easier to keep my feelings in check. I suppose now is good a time as ever to get serious; it’s the only form of a cold shower I have at the moment, and I’m on the fast spiral downwards. Joss calls action, and the two of us snap into movement like someone’s pressed play on the two of us.

I snap his arm back and he throws the dagger up into the air, catching it effortlessly as he backs me into the railing. I’m up on my tiptoes, attempting to get one up on him physically, but it’s not working. I try not to wince as his fingers weave themselves in my hair, roughly yanking my head back and exposing my neck. The ‘dagger’ is poised directly over where my jugular would be, the two of us at a standstill as we fight for dominance. Sometimes these fights hardly feel like me and Jeremy, but there’s always a defining moment that breaks the scene. As expected, Jeremy throws the dagger over his head and moves his face closer to mine, as if he’s going to kiss me again. It takes everything in me not to start laughing, because I know we’re pissing our dear, darling director off. “Renner, for fuck’s  _sake_!” Joss moans, confirming my suspicions.

Jeremy untangles his fingers from my hair quickly, my head rolling back into place as Joss gets his ducks in a row for the next take. “Jesus, Jeremy, do you think you were pulling on my hair hard enough?” I grumble, reaching up to rub the back of my head.

He winks. “Get used to it, sweetheart.”

“I hope you’re referring to the endless takes we’re up for thanks to your shenanigans,” I warn him, one of my eyebrows lifting in caution. He still has that devilish look in his eye as he opens that big mouth of his yet again.

“Don’t be so naïve, Scarlett. You and I both know what I’m talking about.” He steps forward, his breath hot on my already sweaty skin as his lips brush over my ear. “And you want it just as bad as I do.”

I swallow. “How do you know anything at all, smart ass?”

“It’s written all over your face, sweetheart.”

Sometime I really wish that he was as dumb as he pretended to be.

Joss signals for us to go again with a hand motion, a clear indication that he’s all but given up on verbally communicating anything to us. Jeremy and I navigate our way into position for the dagger bit again, and I mentally say a quick prayer for my scalp tomorrow. “Action,” Joss grumbles half-heartedly, and Jeremy and I are at it once again. He’s pulling hard on my hair, harder than he did last time for sure, and the dagger is trembling in his hand right above my throat. He causes me to stumble backwards as I try to get away from him somehow, right on cue as we should be. Out of the corner of my eye I can see that Joss is on the edge of his seat, surprised we’ve made it this far without any tricks up our sleeves. I lean in to bite Jeremy’s arm when the next thing I know, his arm isn’t what my mouth has met.

It takes about point-three seconds to come to the slightly horrifying deduction that Jeremy has indeed accidentally tripped and his mouth is now on mine. I want to pull away, but I can’t bring myself to do such a thing. His mouth is magnetizing, keeping me there as his lips claim me in some unknown and forsaken way. Joss is probably planning murder in forty different ways right now, but the thought quickly melts from my mind. It’s no longer Natasha and Clint, it’s Scarlett and Jeremy. My hands snake up around his neck and delicately tangle themselves in the hair closest to his neck, holding him to me and making sure he goes nowhere. We’re really going for it, because there are uncomfortable coughs and throat-clearings from various places on the set.

The sound of an air horn sends us scrambling back from each other, scaring us half to death. Joss is of course the man who pulled the trigger, incredibly agitated. “Renner—“

“ _I couldn’t help it!”_

“Break time. Be back in ten,” he threatens, before stalking off. I bite my lip as Jeremy looks back at me, like he’s staring at one of the seven natural wonders. The crew disbands, most of them either looking over sides or disappearing to god only knows where. It’s essentially just Jeremy and I, by ourselves.

“Did you enjoy that kiss, sweetheart?” he teases, lifting both of his hands where his palms are facing me. “Cause personally, I could stand a couple thousand more of those from you.”

“What does my face tell you now?” I dare myself to ask him, crossing my arms over my chest. He steps forward, hands reaching out to unfold my arms and slowly raise them up over my head, holding them against one of the pillars on the set. His lips are decorated in a smirk, one that’s laced with sin and nothing good could ever come from a man with that sort of look on his face.

“It tells me,” he says, leaning in until his chest is pressed against mine and his lips brush over mine as he speaks. “That you  _definitely_  want me as much as I want you.”

“Anything you want to do to me, you’re going to wait,” I inform him as he starts pressing kisses down my neck. “I truly doubt Joss wants to see the two of us fucking on his set.”

Jeremy chuckles, the vibrations of his laugh tickling my skin. “The night is young.”

“It’s also three in the morning, and we still have to get this scene right, assuming that Joss retrieves his sanity.”

“We have no call time tomorrow,” he practically sings in my ear.

“I like how you think, Renner.”

“And I bet I’ll like how you say my name when I’m making you lose your goddamn mind, Johansson.” I’m not one to build up anyone’s ego, but he’s probably right. If that kiss was an indication of anything, and the fact that my mind is already spinning and I’m hardly able to stand as he runs kisses over my jaw line with my hands held above me, I’m going to like it a whole lot, too.


End file.
